“Well, what?”
“We need to talk.”
“All right.” I lean back against the counter, bringing her with me. “Let’s talk.”
“I think it would be easier to talk to you if you weren’t holding me.” She laughs nervously.
“And I think it will be easier to listen if you’re right here.”
“Fine.” She sighs when she sees I’m not going to let her go. “I want . . .” She licks her lips. “No, I need to know where we stand,” she says, and my brows draw together. “Don’t frown at me.”
“I’m trying to figure out what you mean by where we stand.”
“I mean, are we together? Are we just seeing each other? Or are we, like . . . seeing each other but also dating other people?”
“Fuck no to the last, and yes to the first,” I bite out, and she pats my chest.
“Don’t growl. It’s just a question. I need to make sure we’re on the same page.” She leans over to pick up Sam when he comes over to where we’re standing, and I wrap my arms around both of them. “I also want to make sure you realize that dating me means you’re dating him, so—”
“Babe,” I say, cutting her off with a squeeze. “I know what I’m getting myself into, so I don’t need you to prepare me for that. And if I did have any concerns about dating a woman with a child, I wouldn’t even attempt to go there.”
“Okay, good,” she says quietly.
“Anything else?” I ask when she looks like she wants to say more.
“There is also the matter of you being my boss.”
“Right.” I take Sam from her when he reaches for me but still keep hold of her. “Your job will never be in jeopardy, and not just because Mav and Tanner would kick my ass, but because I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“But if this doesn’t work”—she shakes her head—“I would have to quit. I couldn’t—”
“Being with you feels right,” I say, interrupting again before she can finish, because no way do I want to even think about this ending up any other way but with us together. “I haven’t felt this content since . . .” Fuck, never. I’ve never felt this. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this content. I want this to work. I want more days just like this with you and Sam, and if by some chance things between us don’t work, we’ll figure it out. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, visibly relaxing, and Sam wraps his arm around her neck while keeping hold of me.
“Now kiss me and let me finish getting dinner ready. I don’t want you and Sam driving home too late.” With her expression soft, she starts to lean around Sam but stops when he squeals and lunges between us, slobbering on her cheek and mine.
“All right, mister.” She laughs, taking him from me and placing him on her hip. “Let’s let Blake finish cooking for us.” She maneuvers him so that she can kiss me, then carries him to the living room. With the two of them a room away, I broil salmon steaks and steam some broccoli, realizing that only because the two of them are here does my house actually feel like a home.
“Okay, I didn’t want to say anything before, but it’s seriously weird how much Sampson looks like you when you were little,” Margret says, her attention focused on Taylor and Sampson, who are playing with a pile of blocks Dad dumped in the middle of the living room for them to play with.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mom whispers, glancing over at the recliner where Everly’s curled up, watching the kids play.
“Right? The two of them could totally be twins.” Margret doesn’t whisper, and I shake my head at my sister. “What? I love this for you. It’s about darn time you realize work isn’t everything.”
“What’s going on?” my dad asks, joining us at the island in the kitchen, and like earlier when we arrived for dinner, I can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and how exhausted he looks.
“We were just saying how much Sampson looks like Blake when he was little,” Mom says, and Dad leans into her with his hand on her back.
“He really does.” He meets my gaze, smiling.
“How’s your headache?” Mom asks him quietly, and he kisses her cheek.
“Getting better.”
“I really wish you would go to the doctor and see why you keep getting them.”
“You worry too much. I’m fine,” he tells her gently, then heads into the living room to take a seat on the floor where the kids are.
I glance at my mom and Margret, catching the worried look the two of them share, then look into the living room and find Everly biting her lip while watching my dad play with Taylor and Sam. My stomach churns, and my hands ball into fists. I want to scream. I want to rage and demand that he be honest, but I can’t, because I promised I would keep his secret.